Proposals
by I love Neville
Summary: Alternate title- Nations Are Dorks Who Can't Confess Love Properly. Love is in the air! The engagement stories of all the nations. Parings include GerIta, PruHun, Spamano, FrUK, AmeriPan, RoChu, Canada/Ukraine, SwitzAus, SuFin, SeaWy and LietPol, amog others
1. Prussia and Hungary

Hungary was knew something was up from the beginning.

It started when she actually slept in on a Saturday morning. Every Saturday her boyfriend, Prussia, would leap out of bed at 8:55, make himself a bowl of cereal, turn the TV on at full blast and watch the newest episode of My Little Pony. Sometime he would even put Romano or Feliks on speaker phone and talk about the episode as it was airing- loudly.

And every Saturday, Hungary would wake up to that damn theme song, shuffle out of bed, and join Gil on the couch and cuddle with him, still half asleep.

She didn't understand why Gilbert liked that show so much- she didn't dislike it, she actually found it relatively enjoyable- but she didn't understand his obsession with it. She liked Saturday mornings, though, finding it adorable how her cocky boyfriend would light up at the sight of the candy- colored equines. She enjoyed cuddling against him and listening to him comment on the episode as it played, watching him beam whenever certain characters got the spotlight and theorise and rant and squeal.

But that Saturday she wasn't woken up by the TV.

She was woken up by Prussia walking into their bedroom, holding a tray of french toast.

That was the second thing that got her attention.

No sugary cereal? No ponies? What was going on?

She looked at the clock, then at the tray, and crossed her arms. "Okay, Gil, what'd you do now?"

The albino looked confused. "Uh... I made breakfast?"

"Why?"

Gilbert looked at the tray, then at his girlfriend. "I thought it would be nice?"

Wait, was it their anniversary? It wasn't her birthday, she knew that... It wasn't Valentines Day, was it? No, she was sure it wasn't... Not April Fool's Day, either...

Gilbert was still staring at her, nervous. Why didn't she like this? He thought girls loved breakfast in bed! Had he messed up already?

Hungary looked at the food, then cleared her throat. "It... it _is_ nice. Thanks, Gil."

He looked relieved, sitting down on the bed and handing her the tray. "No problem." he sat on the bed awkwardly, watching her eat.

She ate for a bit, then asked, "So, no new episode today?"

"Nein, zere was. I recorded it, ve can watch it later."

She almost dropped the fork. He had missed a new episode? _On purpose?_ "Why didn't you watch it live?"

He shrugged. "It vould have woken you up, ja?"

Elizaveta nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing. Since when had he cared about that? "Yeah, I suppose it would have."

When she was finished with breakfast, he grabbed the plate, threw it in the sink, then ran back into the room. "So vhat should we do today? Anyzing you like."

Her brow furrowed. "_Anything?_"

"Anyzing!"

This was strange, but she wasn't going to complain. "We could see a movie. There's something I've been wanting to see."

"Sounds good."

Hungary looked at her boyfriend in disbelief. "Aren't you going to ask what the movie is?"

He shrugged. "Nah, vhatever you vant is fine."

"What if it's a sappy, romantic chick-flick?"

A look of true terror could be seen in the albino's red eyes, but he forced a smile and said, "If zat's vhat you really vant..."

With that, Elizaveta's jaw dropped. She shot out of bed and looked at her boyfriend, concerned. "Are you sick?"

"Vhat?"

"Are you sick? Is something wrong?"

"Nein, nozing's wrong!"

"Then why are you being so... nice?"

"Can't I be nice to my girlfriend every once in vhile?"

"I've wondered the same thing!"

He rolled his eyes, chuckling. "I'm being nice now, aren't I?"

"Yes, and it's weird," her large green eyes were narrowed in suspicion. "Did you do something you don't want me to know about?"

"Vhat? No!"

"Are you trying to apologize for something?"

"Nein!"

"Are you keeping something from me?"

His pale complexion got even paler. "N-nein."

Elizaveta's freckled nose scrunched up and her eyes flashed in anger. She lowered her voice and said, in a completely calm and even voice, "What are you hiding from me?"

"N-nozing! Let's just go to the movie, ja?" he grinned and went to grab her hand, but she moved away and he fell flat on his face.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt, what are you hiding from me?"

He got up quickly, brushing himself off and refusing to meet her gaze. "I swear I-"

"Did you break something of mine?"

"Nien I-"

"Did you get arrested?"

"No, b-"

"Are you breaking up with me?"

"Nein! Look-"

"_Did you cheat on me?_"

"_Nein! Gott verdammit_, I'm trying to _propose_!" when he realized what he had said, he gulped. "Shit. Uh, vait here!" then he bolted from the room. Fuck fuck fuck he had done this all wrong. He didn't have the flowers yet, he hadn't taken her to dinner, they were both in their pajamas- this was all wrong. Frantically, he grabbed the half-dead flowers from the vase on their kitchen table, grabbed the ring, then ran back into the room.

"Here, flowers!" he gave them to her, then pulled out a black box and tried to open it. Once he finally got it open, he knelt down on one knee, panting, and handed her the ring. "Eliza... veta... will y-you.. marry... vait-" he waited a second to catch his breath. "Okay. Elizaveta Héderváry, vill you ma-marry me?" He grinned up at her, still sweating.

She looked down at him, her mind still reeling. Her mouth wasn't working.

Gilbert started to grow nervous after a minute. "Uh, Liz? My knee kinda hurts, it'd be nice've you to answer..."

She rolled her eyes, and found herself able to talk again. "Of course, you idiot."

He looked at her, stunned. "Vait, you're saying yes?"

"Yes, I'm saying 'yes.'"

He beamed. "Yes! I did it! You said yes!"

She laughed. "Why are you so surprised? Didn't think you were awesome enough for me?"

Gil looked at her, then he snickered, his grin turning cocky. "Nein, I knew I vas awesome enough! Of course you said yes, who vouldn't?"

The girl just rolled her eyes.

Prussia stopped jumping around, looking at Hungary excited. "I gotta tell Vest!" then he ran from the room. His girlfr_- fiancee-_ could hear him dialling the phone in the next room.

_"Hey Bruder, guess vhat?"_


	2. Germany and Italy

"Und she said _yes?_"

Italy was sketching at the kitchen table, trying very hard not to listen into the conversation Germany was having over the phone with his brother in the next room, but it was difficult. Prussia was loud, even through the phone and the walls, and he couldn't help but hearing.

He was grinning, swinging his feet under the table, almost bouncing in excitement. Hungary as getting married! He couldn't be happier for his friend. He'd have to do something for her- maybe he could paint something as a wedding gift? He could help her choose a dress and plan the wedding. It wasn't even his wedding, but he was just so giddy!

"Of course she said yes! I'm getting married! You know vhat ve gotta do now, don't you, Bruder?"

Germany sighed, then decided to humor his brother. "Vhat?"

"You have to propose now! I mean, I worked up ze balls to, now you and Italy need to get engaged!"

Feli's ears perked up and he stopped sketching.

_"Vhat?"_

"You and Feli have to get married! Elizaveta agrees wiz me, too!"

_"Italy and I are __**not**__ getting married!"_

Italy dropped his pencil, his goofy grin slipping off his face. _Germany didn't want to marry him?_

He made his way to their bedroom, sniffling. He couldn't hear the conversation any more, but he decided that was for the best. Pookie mewled softly and jumped up onto the bed, and Feliciano buried his face in the cat's fur, stroking her. The Italian curled up into a ball, whimpering.

Why didn't Germany want to marry him? Had he done something wrong? He couldn't think of anything too bad. They'd had a small fight a few days ago, but it was over something stupid, it wasn't a big deal... Right? He thought Ludwig loved him... after all, they'd been dating for a while. _He_ definitely loved _Ludwig_, didn't the German love him back? And if he did, then wouldn't he want to marry him? Isn't that what people did when they loved each other? That's why people dated, right? To find someone to marry?

So, by that logic, Germany didn't love him, because he didn't want to marry him. He squeezed Pookie tighter.

...

Germany sighed, happy to be off the phone. He was thrilled for Gilbert, he really was, but his brother was _loud_. He made his way into the kitchen, surprised to see Italy's sketchbook lying on the table, wide open and completely abandoned. He frowned. His boyfriend wasn't very organized, he knew that, but he never left his art supplies on the table. It was a bit strange...

The house was too quiet, too. Usually the house was filled with some sort of noise- Feli singing, or humming, or laughing, or whining. Hell, the little man even talked in his sleep sometimes! But it was silent.

No... no, now Ludwig could hear something. Soft whimpers, coming from the bedroom. His heart sunk. This was bad.

Feliciano cried quite a bit. He was sensitive and easily frightened, which meant that Germany was used to the sound of his boyfriend sobbing. But it was always loud, annoying. Italy never tried to hide his tears, unless something was very wrong.

He checked the calendar. Once a year, Italy would hole himself in his room with things from his childhood and cry. Germany had mentioned it to Prussia once, who told him that there was a very good reason, but had begged him not to ask. He was so shocked by his brother's seriousness that he had vowed not to pry, even if it hurt him to see Italy like that.

No, it wasn't that day. Not even close... His frown deepened, and he knocked on the bedroom door. "Italy? Are you alright in zere?"

"I- I'm fine..."

He didn't sound fine. Maybe he could lure him out of his room...

"Do you vant somezing to eat? Ve didn't have breakfast, after all."

"I'm not hungry."

"Ve could have pasta..."

"I'm not hungry."

Okay, something was very wrong. "Feli, I'm coming in."

"No, Lud-" Germany ignored his protests and opened the door.

The lights were all off and the curtains were drawn, but there was enough light for Germany to see that Italy's face was red and tear-streaked.

"Italy!" the blonde's ice-blue eyes softened and he sat on the bed, hugging the ginger close. "Vhat's wrong?"

"Y-you don't love me, d-do you?"

_"Vhat?"_ the man felt Italy flinch, so he said, softer, "Vhy vould you zink zat?"

"B-because you don't want to marry me!" he explained, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

_Oh_. "Zat doesn't mean I don't lo-"

"Yes it does! People who love each other date, and people date so they can marry each other! People who date want to get married, and people love each other if they date! So if you don't want to marry me, then we aren't really dating, and you d-don't really love m-m-me!"

"Italy..." Ludwig hugged him tighter, rubbing a hand through his auburn hair. "Of course I love you, you dummkopf."

"Y-you do?"

"Ja, of course I do."

Feliciano grinned and snuggled into Ludwig's chest. "We're gonna get married!" Then he kissed the German full on the lips and skipped off, Pookie at his heels. His new fiancee sat on the bed, a stupid smile on his face until-  
"Ve~ Fratello! Luddie and I are getting married!"

**_"WHAT?!"_**

**I'm writing chapter three right now, which will be Spamano! I hope you enjoyed the chapters so far.**


	3. Spain and Romano

**Wow, this is the longest chapter so far, and it's probably the worst. Thanks to fangirl713 for reviewing, and everyone else who read, favorited or watched this story.**

Romano gripped his phone in his hand, his knuckles white. _"Please tell me this is a stupid joke..."_

"No! We're getting married, we are!"

Romano growled. "I can't believe you're actually marrying that potato bastard! He'd better be good to you, fratello..."

"He will be, Lovi!"

"Don't call me Lovi... I," the Italian sighed. Was he really going to say this? "I'm happy for you. Congratulations."

"Grazie!"

"Yeah, yeah."

"You're going to be my best man, si?"

Romano gulped."W-well, I..."

"Please? Please? I know you don't like Luddie-"

"Don't fucking call him that, that's worse than calling me Lovi-"

"-but you're my fratello and it'd mean a lot to me if you were my best man!"

Lovino stopped for a moment. "It would?"

"Of course it would! I love you, Lovi, I wouldn't want anyone else up there with me!"

The man sighed. There was no way he could say no now... "Alright, fine. I'll do it."

"Really? Oh, grazie, Lovi, grazie-"

"Just make sure that bastard knows I'm doing it for you, not for him. I still fucking hate him."

"Okay! I will!" he could hear Italy gasp through the phone, before he squealed, "Ve~ I have the best idea ever! Since Germany and I getting married, and Prussia and Hungary are getting married, you should propose to Spain soon, then we can all be a big famiglia!"

"I don't want to be in that bastard's fam- wait, Gil got the balls to propose? Or did Hungary get fed up and propose to him?" Either way that would explain why Prussia hadn't called to discuss today's episode...

"I think Gil proposed, I don't know. But the point is we're gonna be a huge family, and you should marry Toni so it gets even bigger!"

Romano gulped, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "I gotta go, Vene..."

"But-"

"Bye," he said, gruffly, ending the call. He rubbed his temples, annoyed. Not only was his little brother marrying that stupid sausage eater, but now he was expected to propose to Toni? What the hell, Feli?

He sat on the couch, flipping on to his favorite cartoon and crossing his arms, moping.

"Lovi, you alright?" his boyfriend flopped on the couch next to him, looking concerned. He tried to hug him but Romano pushed him away roughly. "Did something bad happen in your pony show?"

"No. My stupid fratello is marrying that stupid potato bastard," he grumbled.

Antonio's green eyes lit up and he beamed, sitting up. "That's maravilloso! I love weddings!"

"No it isn't, bastard! He's marrying Germany!"

"Si!"

"And that's a problem!"

"Why?"

Romano looked at Spain in disbelief. "You're an idiot. My _little brother_ is marrying _potato bastard._"

"Well, they love each other, right?"

"Well... yes..."

"So why's that bad?"

"I don't like Germany!"

"But you're not marrying him, right?" the bubbly Spaniard looked befuddled. "So why is that a problem?"

"Because I don't want him in my family!"

"Germany isn't so bad!" he grinned, determined to cheer Lovi up.

"I hate him."

"You say you hate me, too."

"I _do_ hate you."

Antonio chuckled. "No you don't."

"Yes, I do!"

"Then why do we live together?"

"Because-"

"And kiss?"

"I don't k-"

"And yesterday you saw me in those pants and then we-"

"You have a nice ass, what was I supposed to do?!"

Toni's eyes sparkled and he laughed. "So you like my ass?"

"... Si..."

"And my ass is attached to me..."

"No shit. Your point is...?"

"So you must like me, if you like my ass enough to do what we did yesterday."

Lovi's face turned a bright red, and he smacked Spain over the head. "_Bastard!_"

"_Looovi_, that _hurt_!"

"Good."

"You should apologize, Lovi, that was mean."

"No."

The Spaniard shrugged, kissed Romano on the cheek and said, "Oh, I forgive you anyway!"

"I didn't fucking apologize!"

"I know! I'm going to check on the tomato plants, want to help?"

Romano scoffed. "Fuck no, bastard."

"Okay," he grinned, then hopped off the couch and went into the garden. Romano scowled and curled up tighter. Feli expected him to propose to Toni? He actually thought Romano would marry that overly-peppy bastard? Sure, he was cute, and he put up with Romano even when he was being unreasonable, but really?

Eventually the episode ended, and, with nothing else to do, Romano decided to see what Spain was up to. He was still in the garden, completely oblivious to his boyfriend watching him. When he saw Toni, beaming to himself and singing softly as he worked, covered in dirt and grime, he couldn't help but smile. Maybe being married to the bastard might be... nice, actually. Spain's green eyes flickered away from his work and spotted Romano. He smiled even wider and waved. Romano rolled his eyes, but waved back.

He'd propose in around a week, he decided. That way, it wouldn't seem like he was following his stupid fratello's advice. Because he _wasn't_, of course. No, this was his own idea, completely original.

It was strange, though. Everyday, Antonio would try and drag him into the tomato garden. He would keep insisting, until, four days later, Romano finally agreed.

Spain all but dragged his boyfriend into the garden and pointed to a tomato high above his head. "I've been trying to get that one for days, but it's too high! Can you get it, Lovi?"

Romano faceplamed. _How the fuck did he get a tomato plant to grow so high, anyway?_ "I'm shorter than you, idiota."

"Then get on my shoulders!"

"No."

"Please?"

"Why do you want that tomato so badly anyway?"

"It's... special. Please, Roma?" Spain turned to him and gave him the best puppy-dog eyes that he could muster up.

The grumpy Italian sighed. "Alright, bastard, lift me up."

Spain lifted Romano onto his shoulders and, with a bit of cursing and wobbling, inched their way over to the tomato. Lovino took it and pulled it down, handing it to Antonio. "Here, enjoy it, bastard."

"No! You eat it, I wanted you to have it!"

Romano raised an eyebrow, but sighed, grabbed the large fruit and took a bite. He chewed for a few seconds before his teeth hit something hard. He spit out a glob of tomato flesh, only to find a ring.

"How did that get in there?" Spain asked, giggling. "It looks like the tomatoes want us to get married!"

The brunette looked at the Spaniard, mouth open in disbelief, then threw the tomato at him. "_BASTARD! Why did you have to do this now, huh?_"

Spain's bubbly smile slipped for minute, then he said, "I didn't want to wait any more!"

"But I was about to- ugh! Thank god I didn't buy the ring yet..."

Toni perked up. "Oh, Lovi, you were going to propose? That means you'll say yes for sure then!"

"What? Yeah, I'll say yes, but I wanted to propose!"

Antonio thought for a moment, then said, "Well, how about you say yes to me, and then I'll say yes to you?"

"What's the fucking point? We'll already be engaged!"

"Well, I could take back my proposal, if that would make you happy..."

"You can't take back a proposal, dumbass!"

They looked at each other for a moment, then Spain asked, "So are we getting married then?"  
"I don't fucking know!" Romano yelled, storming off.

Toni sighed and cleaned the tomato off of his face, then continued to garden. A few hours later, he went into the house. He saw Romano sitting on the couch, watching some soap opera, the ring glittering on his finger.

He smiled.


	4. France and England

Love was in the air, and Francis Bonnefoy was pissed.

He took a sip of wine and mulled over the situation. First off, Gilbert had gotten engaged. At first he had been thrilled, ecstatic. It was wonderful that his friend was getting married and he was happy for him!

Then Antonio had called to tell him that he was getting married. Again, France had been excited. He was surprised that both of his romantically-challenged friends had gotten engaged before him, but they were friends, so what did it matter?

Then Italy called him, and shrieked, barely comprehensible, that Ludwig hadn't exactly proposed, per se, but that they were getting married.

And again, France smiled and congratulated his baby brother.

Then he thought it over. Not only were his best friends getting married before him, but his _baby brothers_ were in a better relationship than him. Than _him_! _France!_ **_The country of love!_**

He almost asked himself why, but he knew. The simple fact was that England refused to say that they were even friends half the time, let alone that they were dating. Half the time France himself didn't know where he stood in the Brit's eyes.

He groaned and took another sip, nearly oblivious to the horrible burning smell wafting in from the kitchen.

The key word was _nearly_.

He stumbled into the kitchen, sloshing his wine bottle in his hand, and sighed, finding Arthur furiously putting out a small fire. "Why do you insist on cooking, Angelterre?"

The blonde looked at him, his caterpillar eyebrows furrowed in fury and confusion. "It's soup! How is soup on fire, Francis?! That isn't possible!"

Rolling his eyes, Francis turned off the stove and muttered, "Says ze man who believes in faeries..."

Arthur growled and started to argue, but Francis put his hand up and said, "Sorry, Angelterre, please don't shout. I 'ave a splitting 'eadache."

Shocked, the man looked at him. "Did you actually apologize? What's wr- oh," he said, eyeing the almost empty bottle in the man's hand. "You're drunk. That explains it."

"Oui, I'm drunk. And now I'm going to go get drunker. Just stop cooking."

"Oh no you don't!" Arthur took the wine bottle from the Frenchman's hands. "As tempting as it is, I can't let you wallow in cheap wine and misery."

"Ze wine isn't cheap!"

"That isn't the point!" England's brow furrowed and he looked at his friend in pity. "It's not... you know... it it?"

"Non, zat's May zirtieth. And I don't drink zat day, I go and pray, you know zat."

He nodded his head. "Right, of course. So what's the problem, then? It's not June sixth, or July first, or- were you listening to Les Miserables again? You know the state that gets you in."

"I was, but zat's not why I'm upset."

"Then why?"

"You'll laugh."

England looked hurt. "Do you really think so little of me, love?"

The Frenchman sighed, then said, "I suppose zat... Wiz everyone else getting married, and me being ze country of love... I feel a bit left out."

England didn't laugh, although he did think that the frog was overreacting.

"I'm not overreacting!" Francis shot back. "...Okay, maybe I am, but I 'ave every right to be upset, you know."

"Oh, now I never said you didn't."

"I just- my _petit freres_ are marrying before me! My _little brozzers_! And I'm not even in a stable relationship!" he chuckled. "Or at least not one zat you'll admit to."

It was Arthur's turn to chuckle now. "Well, how can I say our relationship is stable? That's complete bollocks!"

Francis raised an eyebrow. "But you admit zat we 'ave a relationship?"

"Well... I suppose. We do live together."

France grinned lecherously. "We do more zen zat, Angelterre."

"Shut up! I'm not going to help you feel better if you continue to act like that!"

The blonde put his hands up in mock surrender. "Très bien, je comprends, mon lapin."

"Oh for god's sake, speak English, I can't understand a word you're saying- and don't call me your rabbit, either!"

"Well, you obviously understood if you knew I called you rabbit, non?" the Frenchman slid a hand around Arthur' waist, smiling.

The Brit flushed, his cheeks turning an angry red. "Shut up- and get your hands off me! I'm going out for a while. Promise me you won't drink."

Francis sighed melodramatically, but nodded. "Of course, mon cher, of course."

"I'll buy some food while I'm out, since I burnt our lunch."

"Zat sounds fine," he was surprised when the man gave him quick peck on the cheek, but he couldn't say it didn't make him happy. England looked surprised himself, and quickly grabbed his coat and left.

Francis chuckled, then, for lack of anything better to do, took a book off the shelf. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone... eh, his Angelterre loved the books, how bad could they be? He sat on the couch and flipped the book open, scanning the first page.

_Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much..._  
...

They weren't bad at all. By the time Arthur came back from his trip, Francis was more than halfway through the Chamber of Secrets.

"Francis, wh-"

"Shh, I'm reading," he continued to pour over the book, barely glancing at his partner.

"Well could you help me with the groceries?"

"Non, Dobby just got freed, I can't stop reading now."

"Dobby? Are you-?" England looked at the books in his hands, then started to beam. "You're finally reading them! Oh, they're amazing aren't they?"

"Oui, now shut up."

"Oh, have you gotten to the part with-"

"Non! Don't spoil it!"

The other man simply chuckled and started to put away the food.

...

Francis finished the books within days, tearing through them, with a short break to recover from the death of Sirius Black because _where had zat come from and why did he die in only one sentence, Angelterre!? 'Arry finally 'ad a family!_

Arthur reread the stories as well, caught up in France's sudden interest for the series. They had lengthy debates on the characters and plotlines, and Francis nearly strangled Arthur when he revealed a death before Francis had read up to that point. _("It was only Colin Creevey, he's not even important!" "Zat isn't ze damn point! Next zing I know, you'll be telling me that Lupin dies!" "Well...")_

But soon, he had finished the books. He quickly got through the spin-off books, drinking in every word. Then they had a movie marathon, watching every film, no breaks in-between. Then Alfred had shown them A Very Potter Musical and they watched all of those, too.

To be completely frank, Arthur was thrilled to see Francis so invested in the series. Even Alfred pointing out that it was a British series hadn't deterred the frog, who had simply said, "Eh, so what? Zey finally did somezing right zen, non?"

Although he would never admit it, watching Francis so delighted in something made Arthur fall in love with the man again. (Then, of course, he would do something so... _froggy..._ that he went right back to hating him, but it never truly lasted. As was the nature of their relationship.)

And this new passion gave the Brit an idea...

...

It started with a letter, tied to a tiny plush owl.

Francis stared at the toy in bemusement for a few seconds, then opened the wax seal and read the letter. He rolled his eyes and shook his head when he recognized Arthur's handwriting, which basically told him to dress nicely and come downstairs. He complied happily, excited to be on what seemed to be the receiving end of a romantic gesture, for a change.

He walked down the stairs, looked up, and found candles floating in the air. Candles. Floating. He waved his hand above them, and under them, but they were truly suspended by nothing. Arthur was using his magic, he supposed. Damn, he was a bit jealous.

He saw Arthur standing there in a tux- a tux, dear lord- muttering quietly to himself and fingering something in his pocket nervously. Francis looked at his partner in confusion, then cleared his throat. The Brit jumped and whirled around, a completely terrified- looking smiled on his face.

"Oh, hello, Francis, you got my note, then?" His voice was unusually high pitched.

"Oui... is somezing wrong, Angelterre?"

"No, nothing at all, I just, um," he took the Frenchman's hand, his face bright red. "I just w-wanted to ask you something."

"Okay..."

"So we've known each other quite some time, and... well, we fight a l-lot, and we argue and kind of hate each other and half the time I see you I want to punch your face in and just strangle the living daylights out of you and-"

"Is zis going somewhere?"

England's green eyes flashed in frustration, but he continued. "But then sometimes I look at you and I just... Especially this week, your happiness over something so seemingly trivial as a childrens' book series... I can't help but..." his face was scarlet now, and he fumbled for the box in his pocket. A chocolate frog box. Francis looked at the man questioningly, then opened the box- but instead of finding candy, he found a ring and a note that asked, _Will you be my chocolate frog?_

Francis' blue eyes widened. He had never, in a million years, thought that Arthur would propose to him. He had assumed that they would put off getting married forever, claiming to hate each other until their countries dissolved and their bodies faded. But this was happening, and there was only one proper answer.

"Oui."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

Arthur looked properly shocked at the answer, so France kissed him full on the mouth. The man then looked even more shocked than before.

"Tell me, zough, Angelterre. Ze owl and ze candles and ze letter- you only did zat because you wanted to make ze chocolate frog pun, oui?"

"Maybe..."

Francis chuckled. He couldn't believe he had been proposed to using _Harry Potter. _The only thing that would make this proposal more British would be if Arthur had come out of a blue telephone box, sipping tea in a deerstalker cap and singing "God Save The Queen." He couldn't believe he had fallen for someone so_ British. _

"You could 'ave done somezing about ze unbreakable vow, you know."

"I suppose, but you're a frog, and I wanted to address that," the man's eyes softened, and he smiled. "You're _my_ frog."

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed! And to that anon who was worried I wouldn't finish this story- don't worry, I have every intention of seeing this story through to the bitter end!**

**A few notes- the days mentioned (May 30th, June 6th and July 1st) are Jeanne d'Arc's deathdate, the June Rebellion and Canada's independence day, respectively, which is why Francis would be upset by these dates.**

**Anyway, sorry this chappie took so long. My original plan was to have them being compared to the Thenardiers in Les Mis (can't live with each other, can't live without each other,) but then the image of Arthur proposing my asking if Francis would be his chocolate frog popped into my head and I couldn't not do it. (I also thought of him making a ton of stupid puns about how France had "locked his heart" and shit like that, but I thought that would be too much.)**

**Anyway, thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews!**


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